Freezer Burn
by D Veleniet
Summary: The Doctor and Clara are stranded in the Scottish countryside in the dead of winter after the TARDIS disappears on them. They try to warm each other up and stumble upon some rather effective "antifreeze" techniques in the process.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All hail the mighty BBC and Steven Moffat for letting me play around with these characters. No infringement intended.

**Author's Note: **This was inspired by the Ten/Rose story I stumbled across called "Thermoregulation" (which is fantastic) - but hopefully doesn't bare too much resemblance to it other than the basic concepts of it. Also, it was meant to be a standalone, but my beta disagrees so tell me what y'all think if you feel strongly one way or the other (I'm honestly fine with either.) Speaking of, many, many thanks to my fantastic beta, Friendship-Bravery-Souffles, without whom this would be far less flow-y. You are amazing, V and still unapologetically rock! :-D

* * *

"How much longer?"

"Umm…about an hour, same as the last time you asked."

"What? But that was a while ago, wasn't it?"

"Actually it was about seven minutes ago."

Clara groaned, stamping her feet a bit as they trudged on. "Why can't the TARDIS decide that she needs to defend herself or repair herself or whatever she's doing when we're someplace _warm_? Like Adexia or the Caribbean or I dunno – even Scotland in the summer would probably be warmer."

Somewhere off to her left on the frigid, windswept moor, a sheep _baaed _loudly.

"See? He agrees with me."

"Actually, _she_ was just saying that the grass tastes better on this side of the hill than it does round the other side. I doubt she knows too much about the climate – or notices, for that matter." The Doctor was fiddling with the sonic, aiming it out in an arc around them. "Still not getting any technology readings. Either she dropped us in some year that is decidedly _not _1989, or we really are in the middle of nowhere."

"I could've told you that." Clara clapped her hands together, rubbing them back and forth before blowing into them. "Of all the times I decide to leave my gloves in the TARDIS…"

"The cold is invigorating, though!" His cheery tone prompted a glare from her, making him shrink back as though she might shoot laser beams out of her eyes. Lasers might actually have been quite handy at the moment, if only for starting a fire. "Don't you think it's invigorating?"

"Not the word I was thinking of, no," she intoned, trying to warm her hands under her armpits instead. "Can't you sonic us some heat or something? It does practically everything else."

The Doctor wobbled his head back and forth, which Clara could just make out from how his pale skin cast a faint glow in the moonlight. "It's got the antifreeze setting, but I don't think that would be particularly useful."

"Antifreeze? So…what? It could prevent us from getting frozen?"

"No, it only melts things that are already frozen. Though perhaps that's a useful setting to think about for the future…"

She huffed, stamping her feet again, then came to an abrupt halt. There was the outline of a light-coloured rectangular fixture just ahead. "Doctor – what's that?"

"Eh?" He followed her finger, and then aimed his sonic towards where she was pointing. "It's not anything advanced." He remarked, sounding slightly disappointed.

But Clara had already made a break for it, running towards the faint object, hoping that it would turn out to be some heat-making machine or generator or even be a tiny hut where they could find shelter from the howling wind. Yet as she came closer, she saw it was much smaller than it had looked from far away and was merely a stone wall, set in the hillside.

"What is it?" The Doctor caught up to her, slapping the sonic against the palm of his hand, which she noted wryly also seemed to be protesting the cold.

"It's a wall. Just a wall." And that was it for Clara. "Y'know what? I'm done walking. It's been two hours, we haven't found _any_ signs of civilisation, we don't even know what year we're in–"

"Somewhere between 1200 and 2000," the Doctor declared as he licked his finger.

She shot him a look. "Right. We know that the TARDIS isn't coming back for another hour, I'm tired, I'm hungry and I keep losing feeling in my toes. And my ears. And my nose. And – well… everything else, actually because it's _so bloody cold out here_!" She crossed her arms as she finished, daring him to protest.

"You're hungry?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes, Doctor – you said we were going to have dinner so I didn't eat before you picked me up. Remember?" She couldn't keep the exasperation out of her tone.

"Right. Yes – sorry." He rubbed his hands together which then changed to wringing. "Umm…so I can't do anything about the TARDIS for the next hour –"

"Which I _still _don't understand – you repair her all the time! Why would she need to bugger off on her own into the time vortex to perform her own repairs? And why would she leave us stranded in the middle of Nowhereshire, Scotland?"

He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like equivocating. "Ah. Well. Yes – when I said she was doing repairs, well, that may have been a _slight_ exaggeration."

Clara narrowed her eyes at him. "An exaggeration of what?"

He scratched at his face. "Well – you're right – I did perform repairs on her, it's just that it was to her helmic regulator. Which she's rather…_touchy_… about. So she needs the three hours to essentially – undo the repairs I made. Which she might not view as repairs so much as changes."

Clara fought to keep her scream in her throat. "She's punishing you."

He made a noise of reluctant agreement. "Middle of nowhere, Scotland, possibly the Middle Ages, more than likely the dead of winter…"

"She's basically sent you to your room, hasn't she?"

The Doctor scoffed at that. "I don't have a _room_."

"Exactly," she replied drolly. "This is just the equivalent. Aaaand considering our history, she was probably only too happy to send me off as well." She heaved a sigh. "Right. So that means she's _definitely _not coming back for an hour, and –"

"Ooh! You could lie down!"

Out of all the non-sequiturs he'd spouted, that one took the cake. "Sorry?"

"Lie down! You said you were tired – you could lie down on the wall. Or on the hill, which might actually be more comfortable…"

Clara leaned against the wall. "I am _not_ lying down on the hill with so many sheep around." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "If it _smells_ this much of sheep, then I can only imagine what we've been stepping through the last couple hours. "

"Ah! Well, actually, the reason that sheep manure smells so strong is –"

"Nope – not in the mood for a detailed history of sheep manure and its composition, thanks."

"How about the wall, then?"

Clara had to close her eyes and count to five. "Doctor, as much as I normally don't mind hearing about the history of _every little thing_ around us –"

"No, not the history – although this is an especially interesting geological composition – but I was thinking you could lie down on the wall. Since you said you were tired."

Clara felt a momentary pang of regret for snapping at him when he had clearly been trying to help. She sighed, working her hands as far as they would go inside her sleeves and bracing them against the wall so she could jump up onto it. It was only a few feet off the ground, and it didn't really seem to serve a purpose other than to be a wall in the hillside. But maybe anything that couldn't warm her up seemed useless right now. "I can sit –" No sooner had she said that that she let out a squeak, hastily jumping down.

"What?"

She resisted the urge to rub at her bum where the thin material of her dress and tights had made the brief, albeit unfortunate contact with the cold-as-ice stone.

"Cold! Too cold," she managed, jiggling her legs in an effort to get more blood to her arse.

"Oh, right. Didn't think about that, sorry – the stone has possibly absorbed _more_ of the cold than the ambient temperature."

"My bum is now quite well-acquainted with that, thanks, Doctor."

There was what sounded like an awkward swallow. "So – no lying down, then. Ah, but you said you were hungry – I might have just the thing for you!"

She approached him warily as he dug in his jacket pocket, murmuring all the while. "Doctor…when was the last time you stashed food in your jacket?"

He continued to rummage. "Oh, I don't know…I lose track. It might have been a while ago. Or possibly last week – I don't remember – aha!" He pulled out a dark, rectangular-shaped object triumphantly. "Here!"

"What's that?"

"It's a protein bar." He placed it in her hand.

She held it up to her nose, hoping that it wasn't so numb she could still smell. She needn't have worried. "_Eugh_! Doctor – it smells like fish!"

"Exactly!" He sounded genuinely excited. "Fish is protein – it's a fish bar."

She held it cautiously between thumb and forefinger. "What sort of fish can be okay after being in your pocket for some undetermined amount of time?"

"The dried kind – well – first it's ground into a sort of powder…actually, no, first they freeze it. _Then_ they grind it into powder, and then they form the bars and freeze-dry those and –"

"I'd rather join the sheep, I think." She pushed it back into his chest. "Didn't the sheep say the grass tasted better on the other side of the hill?"

The Doctor sounded genuinely puzzled as he placed the fish bar back in his pocket. "Um…well, yes, but –"

"I'm joking," she sighed halfheartedly, rubbing her hands together again and sticking them under her arms. "I'll be fine – I'm not gonna starve or anything – though thanks for trying. Plus, I honestly care a lot less about the other things 'cause I'd really just love to be less cold." She stamped her feet again to emphasise her point.

The Doctor reached for her hands, pulling them towards his chest. "Here," he offered, rubbing them vigorously between his palms and blowing hot air on them. "Is that better?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah. I wish I could stick them inside my jacket and then zip it up again, just so they could stay out of this wind."

The Doctor looked at her a moment, then started unbuttoning his own jacket.

"What are you doing?"

He answered her by grasping her hands and snaking them around his midsection, so that her hands were at his back. "I can't close it again, but at least they're out of the wind."

Clara hummed contentedly, feeling her extremities start to regain feeling. Or at least feel _slightly_ lessicy. She rubbed her palms up and down his back a few times, letting her cheek fall to his chest. "Thanks."

He was also rubbing her back, clearly intent on warming her further. Then, she felt him shiver and her head shot up. "Doctor! You're cold, too!"

"No, I'm not," he protested, his teeth clacking together a bit in the process. He gave her a somewhat sheepish smile. "Okay, maybe a tiny bit."

Clara withdrew one of her hands and unzipped her jacket, then curled the other one around his wrists and brought them behind her back. "Here – might as well if we're standing like this, right?"

The Doctor hummed his agreement, and she felt him relax into her, the point of his chin resting atop her head, his shivering gradually subsiding, body stilling against hers. They both continued to move their hands up and down each other's backs, and it was unclear whether they were warming themselves or trying to warm the other. Regardless, it seemed to serve a double purpose.

Then Clara sniffled.

"Oh! You said your nose was cold!" He peered down at her earnestly. "Is your nose still cold?"

She couldn't help her smile at how genuinely concerned he appeared, even in the dim light. "Yeah, but – it's okay. This is nice." Perhaps she didn't want to break their…whatever they were doing. Hugging? Snuggling? "Don't worry about it, Doctor, really."

"No, but –" He broke off, dipping his head and letting out what sounded like a long sigh, fanning warm air onto her nose. "Is that better?"

She bit back a giggle at the way it tickled – also at the fact that the Doctor was blowing on her face. "Yeah, actually, that's pretty nice."

"Is it?" He seemed to take this as encouragement, dipping his head lower so that his mouth was just a few inches from her nose. This time he blew more slowly, expelling a long breath of hot air.

This time Clara couldn't stifle her giggle. "That's lovely." She smiled at him once he was finished, noting that he looked immensely pleased with himself. "Thanks."

He kissed the top of her head, resettling his chin there. "Well, we can't have you losing your nose! It would be a tragedy – to lose one as funny as yours…"

"Oi!" She exclaimed into his shirt, fighting a smile he couldn't see. "Says the man whose chin is currently digging into my head 'cause it's so pointy."

He made some noise of protest, muttering something about how his chin wasn't _that_ pointy, but she felt his head lift, making her wish she'd kept her mouth shut. But then his head came down on hers again, cheek first. She readjusted her hold on his back, letting her fingers find the edge of his waistcoat and slipping underneath to put two layers between them and the howling wind. She was so focused on ensuring that she wasn't crossing any – well – _lines_ – that it took her a bit to notice how his head kept moving back and forth on top of hers. Then it took another moment to recognise that he had turned his head enough so that it was not his cheek, but his ear pressed into her hair.

"I'd tell you that you can't read my thoughts like that, but I already know that's not how you do it, so… what are you doing?"

"Hmm? Nothing."

"Yes, you are – are you…stroking my hair with your ear?"

He scoffed at that. "No! I'm…trying to see if your hair is thick enough to act as an insulator."

"_What_?"

"Well…hair can act like an insulator if it's thick enough and there's enough of it."

"But why would that…" She trailed off as she caught up to his Doctor-logic, tugging her head back to study his face. "You're trying to warm your ears in my hair?"

"Well, I would rub them myself, but then my hands would get cold again, and…" He lifted his arms slightly to indicate their current position. As if he didn't want to do anything to break it, either.

Clara let out a sigh. It was times like these when she didn't exactly feel like she'd escaped being a nanny. "Why didn't you just say so?" She cocked her head. "C'mere."

"What?"

"I'm gonna warm your ears."

He looked skeptical. "How?"

"Same way you warmed my nose – by blowing on them. C'mere."

He didn't budge.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No…that's definitely a something face."

He didn't look skeptical so much anymore as something closer to apprehensive. "Well…it's just…"

She frowned at him. "What? I'm not gonna bite!"

His eyebrows shot up.

Her eyes went wide at the implication. "I didn't mean…" She stammered. "I didn't mean that – I just meant I'm not…_dangerous_ or anything."

A corner of his mouth lifted the tiniest bit. "Well…you did mention being hungry earlier."

"Afraid I'm going to nibble on your ears, Doctor?" She asked before she could stop herself, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"One can never be too careful, Clara. And my ears _are_ quite nibblable."

"You made that word up."

"I make lots of words up. Where do you think Will Shakespeare got 'loneliness' from?"

Clara might've rolled her eyes at his boasting or hugged him for the sadness underlying such a statement– if her heart hadn't sped up quite so much. "I promise I won't nibble on your ears without your permission. Deal?"

He was definitely smirking now. "Deal." He slowly turned his head, offering his ear down to her.

She raised herself a bit, careful not to upset their embrace and blew onto his ear, mindful of keeping her distance so her lips, teeth and tongue were far enough away that it wouldn't make him uncomfortable.

It apparently wasn't enough because he let out a strangled yelp anyway, whole body jerking away from her.

"What?"

"C-cold! You have to move closer – otherwise it changes to cold air by the time it reaches the skin."

"Oh! Sorry!" He was still squirming, and she had to pat his back a few times to get him to stop. "If you keep doing that, you'll be a moving target and get cold air all over your face."

He emitted a shuddering noise like he could expel the extra cold by shaking it out of his body. "Right. Okay." He stopped his fidgeting, bending his head much lower this time.

Clara didn't have to raise herself so high this time, but ensured there were only a few inches between them and let out a long sigh onto his ear.

He went completely still, making Clara smile triumphantly. "Better?"

He was quiet for a bit before he replied. "Yes." His voice sounded funny - lower and a bit strangled. He seemed to notice it and cleared his throat. "Yes, that's…better."

Clara shot him an uncertain look – though his face was turned so she just ended up looking questioningly at his ear. "Um…so…"

"You can do it again."

Was that reluctance? Was that why his voice still sounded shaky?

Her teeth worried her bottom lip. "You're sure?"

"Yes." His reply was immediate, confusing her further. _Not_ reluctance, then…

"Um…okay." She took a breath and raised her head again, blowing a long breath onto his ear, trying to keep it gentle and warm.

This time she felt a shiver go through him.

"It's not working, Doctor – you're –"

"No, it's…working. It works – believe me." His voice still sounded strangely muffled.

Her eyebrows drew low over her eyes. "No, it isn't. Clearly you're still cold."

"I'm not cold, Clara."

She eyed his ear incredulously. "You were just shivering – of course you're –"

"I'm _not_…cold."

She froze, gaping as the realisation dawned on her. "Oh. _Oh_. Right." She suddenly became keenly aware of every single spot their bodies were touching, including how his fingers had curled just the slightest bit against her back. Yet it was impossible to tell what that meant. Was he bracing himself for it or…?

"It's very…_effective_."

Well, that wasn't useful. She tried prodding a bit. "Effective?"

"Yes. Effective…antifreeze."

"You mean it's um, it's good at warming your ears?"

"Yes." His tone was still pitched low but betrayed nothing. She resisted the urge to extricate herself from him, completely lost as to whether he felt she'd crossed one of those unspoken lines between them, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward.

If it was, indeed, awkward. Was it awkward?

What he did next offered nothing to confirm her worry one way or another.

"You need to get the other one." He turned his face the other way, inclining his head towards her again. "Don't want to be off-balance."

"Right." She set aside all of her internal flailing and focused on her task, trying to be clinically detached about whatever was happening at the moment. "Hold still."

This time she _felt_ the fisting of his fingers in the fabric of her dress, the gradual tensing of his arms around her and his own shaky exhale.

"And that was okay, too?"

"Yes." Was his breathing more audible now or was that her imagination?

"Okay. Last one." She took a deep breath in, filling up her lungs as much as she could and blew as much concentrated warm air as possible on his ear. His fingers clutched her dress so tightly they ran out of fabric and ended up digging into her back, his head bowing lower towards her and he now let out what was definitely an audible gasp. She couldn't help returning the pressure on his back at this, regardless of whether this was his way of soldiering through or not.

There was the distinct sound of him trying to get his breathing under control once again. After a few breaths that sounded far too forcibly even, he lifted his head again to look at her.

"Okay…your turn."

Now it was Clara's eyebrows who shot into her hair. "What?"

"You said earlier that your ears were cold, didn't you?" There was an innocence to his tone that made Clara suspicious.

"Yeah," she confirmed carefully.

"Well, we can't have your ears getting frostbite!" He extricated a hand from behind her back, bringing it up to her face as if he was going to rub them with his fingers.

She didn't know whether she should quell her disappointment or feel a flood of relief at the return of her normal Doctor. "Nope, can't have that." She gave him a half smile.

But his fingers moved past her ear, brushing her hair back from her face, before anchoring at the back of her head so that it turned to the side. "No, we can't." And then he let out a long exhale, sending a stream of hot air onto her ear, his lips only an inch or so away.

She hadn't expected to react that much, but whether from his angle or from the sheer surprise of the sensation tingling across her skin, she let out a gasp, fingers curling into his back, arms tensing to pull herself into him more.

There was a noise akin to a deep chuckle above her ear, and before she could collect herself, there was another breath, more forceful than the last. She couldn't restrain the noise of shock – or of appreciation, she wasn't sure which – as she pushed herself further into him. She felt him shift, letting her leg scissor between his, allowing her to push where she quite suddenly needed too, as did he apparently, judging from how he answered her movements with his own motion against her.

"See? Very…_effective_." He murmured in her ear.

She nodded, trying to find her voice. "Uh-huh," was all she could manage.

He didn't ask, and she didn't offer: she just let him turn her head to the opposite side, let him sweep her hair back from her face and waited.

He surprised her yet again, though, as his lips brushed up against her ear, taking his time to breathe onto it, several small puffs of air instead of two long ones.

He started at the top of her ear, his lip _just_ grazing her skin each time his warm breath fluttered out, until he got to the bottom of her lobe. There he extended his lip even more, letting the very tip of her ear drag along the inside of his lip for a few seconds, making her writhe against him, her hands grabbing at his back as she let out a string of shuddering gasps. She felt his head move back, and she had to take a few seconds until she could open her eyes again, until she could find her voice again.

When she was finally able to glance at him, she saw he was looking at her in that way he used to – like he was watching her intently. She met his gaze and tried to keep her voice neutral. "You're right. Very…_effective_ antifreeze technique."

He didn't even smirk, he was staring at her so hard.

She swallowed, dropping her eyes. "So…how's your neck, Doctor?"

"Hm?"

"Your neck looks like it might be cold…is it?" She flicked her eyes back up at him again, trying to gauge if this was headed where she thought it was. Where she _hoped_ it was? Even if she couldn't really articulate where 'it' even really was.

He didn't even blink now. "My neck is…_freezing_, Clara."

Now she didn't ask, or wait for an invitation, she just used the back of his shirt to anchor herself as she raised her head to his neck, lips opening automatically and latching onto his skin. She kept up this ruse they had going, keeping her tongue firmly in check, though she let an occasional tooth nick the soft flesh there, eliciting strangled noises from him that made her lips curl every so often. His motions had turned jerkier, and she finally had the dizzying sensation of the Doctor's hard length pressing into her stomach.

She had to rewind that sentence and play it back in her head, scarcely believing _the hard length of the Doctor pressing into her_ was actually a sentence that fit into her life in anything other than a fantasy capacity.

She'd reached the other side of his neck and had just lowered herself back down when he attacked hers. Now she didn't try to muffle or hide her noises, giving them voice as his lips worked ferociously over her skin, maintaining their charade of heating it, somehow managing to keep his tongue out of the equation, but also taking opportunities here and there to suck as well. This caused Clara's head to fall back as she let out a throaty gasp, her fingers seeking more contact and working at his shirt to untuck it from his trousers. Once it was finally free, she let her fingernails rake up his back, oblivious to anything else –

-until he let out a yelp, nearly jumping out of his skin and startling her eyes open.

"What?" She asked breathlessly, crashing back to Earth.

"_Cold_!" He protested, clearly only capable of one-word answers at the moment, arching his back noticeably away from her offending digits.

"Sorry!" She hastily withdrew her hands, letting them just rest on his back again.

As she feared, the interruption was enough to break the…whatever it was they'd had going as they faced each other, both breathing hard. Would he retreat now, spouting some babble about sheep manure or medieval Scottish history or rock composition…pretend that nothing had happened?

And…what _had_ happened?

The only indication anything had transpired at all was that she could still feel him pressing into her stomach.

She was suddenly overcome by the dizzying sensation of teetering at the edge of a precipice with a fifty-foot drop into a dark bay, one that could easily conceal jagged rocks beneath the surface. Either it would be the most thrilling plunge of her life or a most untimely death.

Well…it wouldn't be the first time she'd taken a leap of faith for him.

"So," she began, when it became clear he wasn't going to resume his neck-warming procedures. "You know as far as antifreeze techniques go, we missed a pretty important spot on the face."

"Did we?" He didn't sound surprised. "Hmmm…" He leaned into her, placing his lips just below her hairline. "The forehead?" He blew a gentle stream of warm air across it.

Despite how her body was screaming for a different touch, her mouth tugged upward at the sweetness of the gesture. "Not what I was thinking, no…"

The Doctor hummed and moved his mouth lower on her face. He sighed onto one of her cheeks. "How about here?" He asked. "Or here?" He inquired, moving to the other side of her face.

Clara stopped herself from saying "not _those_ cheeks," though the thought was enough to warm the ones under his lips anyway. "Actually…"

"Ah!" He pulled his mouth away from her face. "Are your eyes cold?"

This earned him a proper eye roll, which was difficult as he was currently kissing her eyelids. When he pulled back, she seized on her opportunity and slid herself up to just shy of the edge of his face, opening her mouth and letting her lips fall onto his chin. As she let out a long sigh onto it, she drew back just enough so she was sure he'd feel it on his lips, too. She set herself back down, grinning at him mischievously.

"The chin."

He stared at her, unblinking, something building behind his eyes.

Her grin faltered. "Right?" It was supposed to come out cheeky, but it sounded far more uncertain than she'd intended.

There was a tiny shift as he brought more of his weight onto the balls of his feet, like a cat preparing to pounce.

Her mouth went dry, grin disappearing.

He lowered his head painfully slowly, bringing his mouth tantalizingly close to hers before dropping an inch below, breathing onto her chin. But she could hear the tremor as he did so, feel the tremble in his limbs as he gripped her back. She waited.

He wound up mere millimetres from her lips. "The chin?" He murmured, echoing her words.

It took every ounce of will power not to lean forward. She made some sort of noise of acknowledgement.

"I think…" He began, the breath from his words brushing across her lips. "That you meant something else…"

She couldn't even manage a noise of acknowledgement now, her reply mostly consisting of _m'_s. Then, like molasses in Scottish winter, his lips finally touched hers, breathing a sigh into her mouth. She returned it, and they continued this, back and forth, their sighs getting shakier each time, until Clara couldn't stand it and partially closed her lips into a proper kiss, shooting her tongue forward.

As soon as it met his, they both let out shuddering gasps into the other's mouth, sending warmth flooding through her stomach, making her hands slide lower on his back, hugging the curve of his arse. He jerked at that, though this time it was into her and not away – his hips thrusting into her stomach, his hands stealing up her back and around her side, brushing across the sides of her breasts.

She let out a cry into his mouth as his hands cupped them, breathlessly offering her consent when a broken request tumbled out of him. She had to tear her mouth from his to let her head fall back as he circled his thumb around her nipple, squeezing it between his fingers. He'd latched onto her neck again and was weaving a trail up to her ear, leaving no patch of skin untouched, employing his lips, tongue and teeth in equal measure. She grabbed at his arse, craving more contact, more friction, cursing the height differential between them. He'd unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress and slipped his hand inside, clearly craving more contact, too.

She let out a squeal. "Cold!" She protested, and he mumbled an apology into her mouth, replacing his hand on top of her dress again and hastily buttoned her. Then she felt him push her more forcefully, seeking movement instead of friction, his hands dropping to her waist like he was guiding her. She broke off from their kiss, frowning at him. "What?"

He indicated something behind her. "There," he managed, and she turned, seeing the faint outline of the long forgotten wall.

She might've remarked that she liked the way he thought if she could form coherent sentences. Or even complete ones. As it was, single words seemed to be all she could manage.

"Yes," she agreed, letting him walk them back to the wall, bracing herself for the numbingly cold bum she was going to have. At least there was the promise of other heat sources in her future.

But he stopped them before she could hoist herself up, removing his jacket and laying it on top.

"Doctor!" She protested. "But you're –"

"Antifreeze, remember?" He lifted her up, moving between her legs and cutting off the rest of her protests.

She gave a loud gasp as she finally felt his hardness pressing into her, giving her that friction she'd so desperately been seeking. Spreading her legs wider, she hooked her heels around his back, hands pulling him into her like that would somehow eradicate every layer of clothing between them. His hands stole from her waist, finding her arse and clutching at it, pulling her against him, their mutual gasps quickly becoming moans as he ground into her hips. She found his ear again, lending credence to his earlier theory as her teeth worried the edges of his lobe.

"Hungry?"

"Starving." She let her tongue slide along his lobe. "But not for food…"

His chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. "For what, then?"

She smiled against his ear, trailing back down to his neck. "Thought that…was obvious," she murmured in between breaths.

"Tell me," he choked out, hands going back up to her breasts again. "Tell me," he repeated, an unexpected urgency to his question.

She paused at her spot on his neck, burying her head into his shoulders as she thrust her hips into his. "You," she whispered into his shirt, feeling a jolt of pleasure at the groan he made.

"What? How do you want me? What do you want?" The urgency bordered on desperation now, as if everything depended on her voicing this answer.

She brought her lips close to his ear. "You. I want you, Doctor…"

"Yes?" he moaned. "How?"

He was moving faster against her now, and she had a hard time forming the words. They came out shaky and high-pitched. "You. I want to feel you…"

"Yes…"

"I want to feel you…inside me," she cried out breathlessly.

"_Yes_," he growled as he clutched her legs, thumbs hooking into the space at the tops of her thighs.

Saying it seemed to free of her the last of her inhibitions. "God, I'm…I'm so…"

"Yes?" His mouth closed around her ear.

"So…"

"Yes?" He suckled on it, his pace getting faster.

"_Close_, but…" She let out a strangled groan of frustration. "Too many layers."

"_Yes_," he agreed, thumbs moving inward, readjusting to allow them room.

She tried opening her legs wider, but the top of her thick tights was stretched tight and stubbornly impermeable, no matter how he hard he pressed. He grumbled something about ripping them, which Clara might've considered, but then he made an exclamatory noise like he'd just had an idea. She didn't have time to ask before he'd dropped to his knees between her legs, his mouth coming down on her tights.

Apparently he was nothing if not determined.

She was about to tell him that if his thumbs couldn't get through, his tongue certainly couldn't when she felt a sensation of hot air down there.

She whimpered, head falling back as her mouth fell open. "That's –"

"Antifreeze," he mumbled, eyes flicking up to hers. He kept his gaze locked on her as he blew another stream of hot air.

She rocked back, heels clicking against the wall. "Doctor…that's…that's lovely, but –"

He gave another sigh. "But?"

She shook her head. "It's not…and you're not…"

This time his noise was of frustration as he hitched his pants up, clamped his hands down on her thighs and stood up again. "Well, we must be in the Middle Ages, _because_ _this is a chastity belt_!"

She managed an apologetic laugh. "Didn't really…think about easy access…when I got dressed this morning."

"No." He was studying her thighs like they might provide the answer they needed. Or maybe he was just looking down – she couldn't tell.

Like he was thinking.

Or maybe…

"Doctor?"

He raised his head along with his finger, smile playing over his lips.

And then she heard it.

The wheezing, groaning sounds of the TARDIS materialising echoed across the frigid landscape behind her, scaring the sheep and whipping up a gust of wind that blew her hair around her face.

She turned back to him, grinning. "Looks like _someone_ has good timing." She stood up, grabbing his jacket and handing it to him, eyebrow cocked coquettishly.

He vaulted across the wall easily, taking his jacket from her with a _hrmph_ and scrambling to the top of the hill, pushing into the TARDIS.

Clara hurried behind him, but stopped as soon as she stepped inside, savouring the warmth on her skin. "Ohhh," she sighed, letting the air seep into her pores and defrost her. She spread her arms wide, moving to the console where the Doctor was already busying himself, and leaned down to the column of rotors and kissed it. "I don't think I've ever been happier to see you."

The Doctor smirked, flipping a few switches. "I need to make sure that she didn't undo anything else other than my repairs –"

A brief whirring sounded from the ceiling, lights flashing as if threatening him to say anything further.

He winced. " -_changes_ – to the helmic regulator. So I'm sending us into the time vortex. That'll give me ample time to make sure that nothing else needs redoing."

"You mean you're gonna check? Right now?" She huffed in disbelief.

"No telling what you were up to by yourself, you bad, old girl." He unbuttoned his sleeves, unrolling them like he was settling in for a long session of repairs.

"But not…right now right now? I mean you're not…"

He flipped a few switches silently.

Clara just looked at him. "Doctor?"

But he avoided her eye, his movements becoming slightly frenzied as he spun a few levers. "I need to do this, Clara."

She gaped at him. "Right. So…all that back there was just – what? Antifreeze techniques?" She made the question sound as ridiculous as she knew it was.

"It worked, didn't it?" He sounded impatient as he moved past her, pulling the main lever down and sending them off into the vortex.

She maintained her hold on the side of the console after the ship lurched, finding herself in sudden need of something to grip.

Hard.

Like the water was coming at her fast after her fifty-foot plunge, and she could see that the dark surface had concealed not just rocks but sharks. "You really mean that?" She hadn't meant her voice to shake so much, but her throat must have been raw from exposure to the wind.

Or from all their –

"Clara…" The remorse in his voice threatened to undo her completely, send her straight into one of those open maws.

She shook her head, her knuckles turning white. "All that was just…a survival tactic?"

He flipped a switch with a flourish. And then his hands fell to the console as he let out a long sigh. "No."

"What?"

"No." He spun to face her. "No, I don't have to do the checks right now." He walked towards her. "And no…" He was close enough to touch her now. "They weren't just survival tactics."

Her grip loosened, hand falling by her side as her heart thudded in her chest in a different way. "So –"

He swooped down, picking her up and cutting her off, making her let out a little noise of surprise. "I didn't want her drifting, so I had to put her in a kind of neutral mode to give us enough time."

She smiled, arms tightening behind his neck. "Enough time for what?"

He gave her a toe-curlingly devilish grin. "To warm up."

Clara hummed her approval, fingers teasing at the nape of his neck. "I still feel cold to you, then?"

His lips caught hers in a searing kiss.

"_Freezing_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Just an apology for the delay, dear readers. I promised the next chapter almost 2 weeks ago but then I was gone for the holidays to a different part of the country with zero access to a computer. Many thanks for some of your concerned messages - and apologies if I alarmed anyone with my absence. So here it is, for those of you who wanted it. And please note the rating change. :-p

* * *

Clara had thought the change in temperature that the interior of the TARDIS provided would be perfectly adequate for defrosting her numbed body parts. But it wasn't until the Doctor opened the door and walked them into a steam room that she realised just how cold she had been.

Getting hit with a blast of warm air prompted an actual sigh of relief from both of them, and he set her down, letting her move towards the centre of the room where the blessedly hot air was pouring from vents in the floor. Instead of wooden benches, the vents were surrounded by a sectional-like circle of soft, spongy seating that sloped upwards at the top and gently downwards to disappear into the floor.

They looked absolutely perfect for reclining, relaxing and warming up.

She hadn't even noticed the Doctor sit himself down on one of the spots opposite her, arms and legs wide to receive the steam as if he were sunbathing. He looked so blissfully happy that she hesitated to approach him, not wishing to disturb him. So she sat herself down in the spot adjacent to him, letting her head sink into the spongy material, smiling as her limbs started to regain feeling.

After a minute or so, she unzipped her jacket, shrugging it off. She noted the Doctor had unbuttoned his waistcoat, bowtie hanging loose around his neck, top button of his shirt undone. With his already rolled up shirt sleeves, he looked so…casual.

So rumpled when he was less put-together and buttoned up.

So…_sexy._

As if he could feel her eyes on him, he met her gaze momentarily, before shifting his attention to her discarded jacket. Then he bent down and unlaced his boots, toeing them off and shucking his socks. He flexed and wiggled his toes, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Clara looked to her own boots, thinking. It really would be _exquisite_ to feel the steam on her bare legs. So she unzipped them and set them off to the side, hands landing in her lap as she met his eye again. Holding his gaze, she quite deliberately reached under her dress, hooked her thumbs under her "chastity belt" and tugged them down over her thighs and knees, stepping out of them and folding them up, setting them neatly next to her boots. She extended one leg and then the other, savouring the warm moisture on her skin. She rolled her ankles, her joints loosening, experimentally pedaling her feet as feeling returned to her limbs. Moving her legs further apart, she let the steam billow inside her dress, closing her eyes briefly as she felt it creep up her thighs, letting out a little sigh.

The Doctor licked his lips.

He whipped his loosened tie off, and shrugged out of his waistcoat. Then he moved his fingers to his shirt buttons, deftly undoing the lot of them and opened his shirt wide to let the steam work its way over his chest. He let go of the sides, leaning back so it slipped down his arms. Giving a shake he let it fall off to one side, leaning back again and eyeing Clara, one corner of his mouth tugging upward.

Clara's gaze raked over the planes of his exposed chest, her breath hitching at seeing him so – well – _naked_. Under normal circumstances, she might have found his preening amusing - how his shoulders went back and his chest puffed out -except she couldn't stop staring long enough to do so.

And the longer she stared, the more it seemed to amuse _him_.

Well - that was enough to snap her into action. She knew _exactly_ how to wipe that cocky grin right off his face.

So she made sure he was watching, and then proceeded to nonchalantly unbutton the top three buttons of her dress, just enough to uncover a v-shape of skin.

His amusement started to evaporate.

She gave a sigh reminiscent of Angie, almost as if she found her task utterly boring, undoing a few more buttons and letting the top of her black silk bra peek through.

The smirk melted off his face completely, eyes glued to those two triangles of black silk.

Still keeping track of his reaction, she slowly slid her dress up her thighs to the top of her underwear, scooted herself to the side and tugged it over her head with a flourish, arms spread wide like she'd removed her cover-up at the beach and was showing off her new bikini. She even gave her head a shake, letting her hair cascade down over shoulders.

The size of the Doctor's eyes had just about doubled. He swallowed audibly.

She raised an eyebrow at him flirtatiously, smirk planted firmly on _her_ lips now.

And that was enough to narrow his eyes to slits, clearly more than ready to rise to her unspoken challenge.

Raising his hands to the tops of his trousers, he popped open the top button, then ever-so-slowly drew the zipper down. The sound could _not_ have echoed with the all the foamy seats and the steam in the room, but perhaps it was echoing around the inside Clara's brain…

Her triumph was beginning to feel very short-lived, indeed.

Gripping the top of the waistband, he rocked himself forward, thrusting his hips into the air and sliding his trousers off his legs, wriggling to unstick them from the humidity in the room and the tight fit. He cast them carelessly to the side, then stretched his arms upward, tucking them behind his head like he was enjoying a day out at the beach, too. He crossed his ankles, smiling now. All he needed to complete the image was a pair of shades.

This time Clara was the one who swallowed, taking in the long, ever-flailing limbs in all their unveiled, bare glory. The impossibly tight, sinewy calves of a runner, the sculpted thighs of a football player, tapering off to…

Tapering off to a very noticeable bulge in his underwear.

Now her mouth fell open, beads of perspiration forming at her hairline. Feeling him as they fumbled against each other in the dark was one thing…through layers upon layers of clothing. Actually seeing him was quite…_different_…

He was watching her carefully, his own grin fading as he noticed the look on her face. Then his hands fell back behind him and ever-so-slightly, he turned towards her.

And now it was no longer a game.

Clara followed suit, so she was facing him more now. Never breaking eye contact, she slowly reached behind her back and unhooked the clasp of her bra. Crossing her arms in front of her, she slipped a strap down one shoulder and then the other.

It was the Doctor's mouth that had fallen open now.

Clara felt a shiver go through her, aware of the significance of the moment, that dizzying sensation returning in full force. She might have been wrong about the presence of hidden rocks and sharks, but it was still a precipitous drop, the fall dangerous enough on its own. Dropping her eyes she peeled her bra away, setting it off the side and then raising her head to peer at the Doctor, unsure she was ready to receive his reaction.

She needn't have worried.

The Doctor actually looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe – or perhaps he was holding his breath. It was like he'd received the most shockingly wonderful news and yet dared not believe it. Like he might've questioned whether everything that was unfolding was actually, properly real.

Clara knew the feeling.

She flashed him a questioning smile, still hesitant.

He couldn't seem to hold her gaze for long at first, his eyes inexorably drawing southward, but when he finally did, there was something akin to awe there, a reverent appreciation. He gave her a slight nod and a soft smile.

She bit her lip, smiling for real.

He took a shaky breath, letting it out in an audible exhale, thumbs hooking under the elastic of his underwear. There was a pause as he seemed to wrestle with some sort of internal dilemma.

Now Clara was the one who was holding her breath.

That apprehension had reappeared – that same look from before when she had insisted on employing his antifreeze techniques on his ears. Like he knew there was no turning back from this.

Maybe he was trying to calculate his odds of surviving that fifty-foot drop, too.

Clara slid to the edge of her seat, wanting to demonstrate her support but aware of maintaining her distance so he wouldn't feel pressured. She looked at him encouragingly and nodded.

The Doctor closed his eyes as though steeling himself for her reaction and tugged his underwear downward, casting it off behind him.

Clara couldn't help her soft gasp.

She didn't know how she would communicate to him that she would basically be putty in his hands, that she was now having a hard time remembering how to breathe, finding it difficult to keep her distance and not pounce on him immediately – so she licked her lips, eyebrows shooting skyward.

The Doctor made a low noise at the back of his throat like a chuckle.

She smirked at that, thumbs slipping under her own waistband and tugging off her underwear in one swift motion. She let it fall somewhere – she wasn't sure where – because every atom in her body was now completely and utterly focused on the Doctor.

They faced each other, breathing audibly as they drank in the sight of the other's naked body. Each time their gazes met, it would last a second longer until finally Clara wasn't sure that she could stand it, and that was when the Doctor started moving towards her.

Perhaps sliding would be the right word, as he pulled himself along the slippery, spongy foam, stopping when he was a hand's breadth away from Clara. He raised a hand to her face, letting his fingertips graze the side of her cheek as he slowly brought it down to her jawline, moving along her neck, his fingers turning to the side and stroking with his knuckle until it came to her collarbone. She brought a hand up to his chest, letting her fingertips trail along his chest muscles, flattening her hand so she could feel the _thump-thump_ of each of his hearts. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, his hand traveling lower towards her breasts, stopping just shy to mirror her, placing his own palm over her heart.

She gazed into his eyes before they started to flutter shut as his thumb brushed across her breast. He slowly closed his hand, drawing ever-diminishing circles around the outside of her breast, until he finally reached her nipple, two fingers closing around it and pulling gently. She let out a gasp, her hand returning to the exploration of his chest, her fingers traveling down over the flat planes of his stomach, circling the navel. She stroked lower, feeling the line of hair there, letting her fingertips graze over his hipbone, moving back and forth. He tweaked hard on her nipple, bucking into her touch at the same time, and she let out another throaty gasp.

Much to her chagrin, her little maneuovre spelled the temporary end of his time at her breast, fingertips turning to the side again as he moved lower over her waist.

Clara couldn't help her giggle and her reflexive tensing as he stroked a sensitive spot.

The Doctor froze, clearly having heard it.

His eyes sought hers, a smile playing over his lips, as if to ask, _Clara Oswald, are you ticklish?_

She made hers wide and steady, as if to answer, _No, Doctor, of course I'm not ticklish. And even if I were ticklish, I would definitely not be ticklish in that exact spot you just touched. _

His mouth worked like he was fighting a full-fledged evil grin, both sides threatening to turn upwards. He returned his attention to the area around the offending spot, watching his fingers stroke along the curve of her hip, back up to the indentation in her waist, his touch feather-light.

Clara made a noise at the back of her throat, biting her lip to prevent it from escaping altogether. He couldn't have noticed such a tiny sound, right?

But he couldn't fight the grin this time, brief though it was.

She swallowed. _Crap._

He let a fingertip trail back up again, pressing in slightly when he arrived to that curve in her waist.

The noise in her throat was longer and higher, though she kept her mouth clamped shut. If she'd been discovered, it was time to lay down the law. So she sought his eyes, flashing him a warning.

_Don't you dare…_

_Oh, I dare..._

He watched her with a predatory gleam as he let one fingertip, then two, then three, draw down and curl into her waist again.

She gasped, her giggle escaping her mouth before she could stop it. She gave him her steeliest glare, which was probably slightly less effective given her position and the noises she'd just been making.

_I'm warning you…_

He almost displayed that evil grin proudly now.

_What are you going to do, hm?_

With agonizing slowness, he brought the palm of his hand to her waist, letting his fingers curl inward...

And he attacked, fingers dancing with deadly accuracy, making Clara shriek with laughter. She tried clamping a hand to her mouth, but he had found her other side and both her hands were needed as she attempted to fend him off. She tried rolling away from him, but he had her pinioned with his legs. Her squeals went unheeded as he ruthlessly tickled her, showing no mercy as she pounded on his chest, something resembling protests falling from her lips amidst her howling laughter. Kicking was useless, too as he used his much longer limbs to his advantage, and he eventually captured her wrists with one of his large hands so she couldn't even retaliate. She was squirming under him, vaguely aware of the weight of his body on top of hers when all of a sudden his mouth was on hers, his fingers abandoning their assault to tangle in her hair. She gasped into his mouth, at the feel of his tongue on hers, her breaths turning to moans as she felt him position himself over her, brushing up against her entrance. She spread her legs wide, invitingly, rocking up against him and causing him to whimper.

Her wrists now freed, she reached down and grabbed hold of him, fingers closing around the length of him and stroking up and down. He'd become the putty in her hands, relinquishing control, letting her rub them together, giving them that blessed friction without all of the layers between them. She did this several times, his whimpers turning to moans, matching her own, and she finally raised herself up, scooting them back so she could sink her head into the slope of the foam and brought her lips to his ear.

"Do you want me, Doctor?" She whispered.

"_Yes_," he choked out.

She pulled on him, rocking her hips forward and joined them together at last, both of them crying out as he slid into her. She twined her arms round his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and she could feel him digging his fingers into her shoulder blades as well. He started to move, slowly, seemingly still somewhat putty-like in the rest of his body, and she met his pace, finding herself similarly overwhelmed at the sensations. She wriggled her legs out to the side and wrapped them around his back, bringing them as close as they could go, nothing left to separate them.

Some combination of the ever-present steam and their own heat generated between them made the soft, spongy seat slick, and they started to slide down it. Clara could feel the Doctor grab at it, trying to keep himself secured, as if he feared being separated from her for even a second. His pace had picked up, and he was having a difficult time multi-tasking, so she locked her ankles around his back and used their momentum to carry them all the way down the slope to the floor, landing on her back with him fully on top of her. He flashed her a quick look of appreciation, sweaty palms struggling for purchase on either side of her shoulders, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows as it seemed that surfaces continued to foil their plans.

As unwilling to be defeated by the slippery alien surfaces in the steam room as she had by the frigid Scottish countryside, she made a decision, wrapped her limbs around him again and flipped them over.

He let out a grunt of surprise as she landed them on their sides, then his eyes widened as she rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips with her knees, still managing to keep them joined. She let her head fall back, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face as she let her own evil grin form, resetting their pace as she started to ride him. His mouth hung open in awe, something like sheer wonder and admiration washed over him as he watched her. Then he grabbed onto her hips and partially raised himself up, closing the gap between them as his mouth hungrily sought hers, as if the sight of her like that was enough to drive him mad, making her cry into his mouth at the change in angle, the new friction. He couldn't stay there for long, however, his lips tearing from hers as his groans grew more intense, as she picked up her pace, as his hands clasped her head between his palms, pressing his forehead to hers, each panting onto the other as they had when they started all of this, hot breath mixing with the steam.

Clara could feel the heat starting low in the pit of her stomach, feel it start to spread through her torso, building throughout her body, all of her awareness converging on two points, and she threw back her head as her cries increased in volume, her moaning turning to keening as she hit the water at last, breaking apart at the seams, limbs tensing as she let out a shuddering cry, whole body shaking and quivering, collapsing back on her heels.

The Doctor gripped her waist like it was his lifeline, slick fingers sliding lower and digging into her arse as he gave several more thrusts and then let out his own strangled cry, squeezing his eyes shut, mouth falling open in ecstasy, making Clara groan at the sight of him. He collapsed on his back, breathing heavily, and she took the opportunity to unfold herself, finally conceding to her burning thigh muscles as she fell bonelessly next to him, her heart racing.

She dragged the back of her hand across her forehead, her hair sticking in all the wrong places, then let it fall to her stomach as she tried to take stock of what had just transpired.

Yet surprisingly, she didn't feel any sense of panic or apprehension about anything. She just felt…content. More than that – she felt…_happy_, maybe even blissfully so.

And she felt…_hot_. Sticky. Sweaty.

She couldn't help her snicker.

"What?"

She turned her head to the left, smiling. "I was just thinking…"

He propped himself up on an elbow, his smile more tentative than hers. "Thinking what?"

She had to take a moment to collect herself, to share such a ridiculous wish after everything that had happened. "I never thought I'd say this, but I was just thinking…I'd really love to cool down."

He raised his eyebrows, gaping slightly at her in disbelief – but that soon broke into a grin, which then changed into a long, belly chuckle.

"What?"

He turned his head back to her. "It's just…I was thinking the same thing."

She started giggling, which then changed into outright laughter as they both lay there and guffawed potentially far more than the situation actually merited.

After they'd laughed until they were both clutching at their sides, the Doctor leapt up and offered her a hand. She took it and was pulled into an embrace, her arms loosely draping around his middle. He kissed the top of her head, then pressed his nose into her neck, letting out a little sigh of contentment. She tugged her head back and caught his lips, sharing a soft kiss with him. They broke apart, smiling, and walked hand-in-hand out of the steam room and down the corridor.

She let out a little noise of surprise as he flicked on the light switch after opening one of the darkened rooms.

"I thought we were gonna cool down?"

"We will. But first – you need to eat!" He opened the refrigerator, rummaging for things and throwing them onto the counter.

Clara leant on the cluttering surface, sighing out her disappointment. "Fine. Suppose you're right." She half-heartedly picked up a few items and examined them, her mind entirely elsewhere. "But afterwards? I was thinking maybe we could shower." She smirked at him.

He returned it. "If you like. Though I was thinking…have you tried out the swimming pool yet?"

Clara smiled softly at him. "That sounds…"

She'd taken the plunge, fifty-foot drop into the unknown waters below, and discovered there were no hidden rocks or sharks waiting for her. In fact, the water was smooth and clear once you hit the surface, the feel of it glorious. And the temperature was…

"…_perfect_."

*_Fin*_


End file.
